


Room Ten

by WellSchitt



Series: The Room(s) Where It Happened [2]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Begging, First Time Bottoming, Insecurity, Light Angst, M/M, Sex Motel Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 08:36:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22967053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WellSchitt/pseuds/WellSchitt
Summary: This is the second installment in the Sex Motel series! It begins the day after the previous fic, DelilahMcMuffin's Room Six <3 <3--“Do it. David, I’m ready, you can- you can-”“Shh. I want to take care of you.” Because he cared too much about Patrick to rush this, cared more about Patrick’s wellbeing than a good fuck.He wanted, needed, to be careful with Patrick.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: The Room(s) Where It Happened [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1644181
Comments: 51
Kudos: 422





	Room Ten

The next day at work, David was dragging.

Jesus, he was getting old.

Part of the problem was that it was the end of his work week. He and Patrick both worked full days Friday to Sunday, Patrick starting early and David staying late, in hopes of convincing more families to skip the drive to Elmdale for their weekly shopping. Then Patrick took Mondays off, which left David alone and clinging to every shred of personal growth he’d experienced over past few years to stop himself from disemboweling Roland for asking gross questions about the body milk.

So. That was part of it. Then there was also the lingering emotional trauma of the teenaged miscreants and the Asbestos Farce.

Mostly, though, this was all Patrick’s fault.

It wasn’t even about last night, either. Last night had been fantastic, life-altering, a revelation—but last night was over, and David wasn’t sated in the least. He was back to wanting. Yearning. _Hungering._ It was exhausting, wanting someone this much. His desire to put his hands on Patrick’s clean, compact body was an ever-present force thrumming through his veins. It was only getting worse now that he’d had Patrick under him, under his body, his hands. His tongue.

David shook his head and adjusted himself. _This is a place of business, for fuck’s sake._

This thing between them—David wavered between calling it a relationship and a fling—was really straining the bounds of his professionalism. He lived in fear of one particular pair of dark, extremely tight jeans; last time they’d made an appearance on Patrick’s legs, he’d had to scurry off to the bathroom to apply a wholly invented serum.

So Patrick coming in on his day off, in his fuck-me-(but-not-yet-we’re-going-slow) jeans and a white t-shirt, when David was already clawing at his face behind the register, was a catastrophe.

Well, almost a catastrophe. Patrick circumvented disaster by handing him a large coffee, prepared exactly the way he liked it, and a blueberry muffin.

“You’re my hero.”

“Yeah, looks like you’re asleep at the wheel a bit. You feeling okay?” Patrick tried to put his hands in his pockets, realized they were too tight, and instead rested them on the counter.

“I’m fine. Good. Tired, maybe.” He refused to blush. He hadn’t blushed about sex since 2001. “Um. How are you?”

“I’m good! Really good. I’m just still, you know.” He tilted his head. “From last night.”

 _Still… what? Still what!?_ David wanted to shake him. Instead he politely took a sip of his coffee, trying not to make a complete ass of himself.

Last night had been a lot. Patrick needed space, he needed time to process, he needed-

“So I guess you wouldn’t want to- I know this is last minute, but… I actually thought maybe we could…” Patrick cut his eyes away.

Patrick needed to get laid, apparently.

“You want… again? Already?”

Patrick smiled wryly. “Yeah, so, um… after last night, I’m a little worried I’m going to end up sinking all my savings into that hotel.”

David bit his lip. “That’s… that’s fine. About tonight, obviously, not… not the rest of it. I mean, um, we can do that tonight. Again. Um, pick me up from the motel at 7:30? I want to shower.”

“Okay. Great. Good. Thank you.” Patrick turned away from him, scanning the store and kicking his foot back against the counter, a little bit bashful and so, so goddamn cute.

And, for now, he was David’s—for weeks, maybe. Months, even, if David was feeling particularly sanguine.

“Can I help with anything here?” Patrick asked, looking at the time on his phone.

“Oh. You don’t have to, obviously. But… if you’re offering…”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get the broom.”

 _Months_ , David decided, grinning down at his coffee and muffin.

—

They didn’t talk much on the drive to Elm Glen, but that was probably because Patrick’s deathtrap of a car sounded like an airplane taking off whenever they drove faster than 50 kmph. Patrick kept shifting his weight, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, and hitting ‘scan’ on the prehistoric car radio, despite knowing perfectly well that their only options this far from Elmdale were soft rock, classical, and a deeply disturbing conservative talk show.

David wanted to hold his hand.

It should be easy—he’d had his tongue in the man’s ass not 24 hours ago. _Just… reach out. Pretend to be annoyed about the radio thing. It’s not weird._

Instead he asked, “Should I call ahead, make sure they have a vacancy?”

“I, um.” Patrick scrunched his eyes shut in brief but dramatic chagrin. “I already did.”

“Wait. You’re telling me that Mr. Versace already booked a room?”

“I really should not have told you about that.”

“Because you’ve been with me ever since you proposed this little rendezvous, besides my very quick shower. So if we already have a room...”

“There’s no cancellation fee,” Patrick said defensively. “And... I’m an optimist.”

“Okay, Gianni.”

“Alright, laugh if you want, but what if they know Stevie, huh? Do you want her teasing us about ‘desperate times’ and renting rooms by the hour?”

“I’m sorry, if there was some kind of roadside motel cabal, I think Stevie would have told me.”

“Not if it’s a secret cabal.”

“I just wish you had consulted me about our aliases, is all. I don’t love Versace’s spring collection this year.”

Patrick shot him a look so full of fondness that David _had_ to touch him, winding their hands together and resting them on Patrick’s thigh.

Patrick caught his eye and gave him a rare non-teasing smile, and they held hands in silence the rest of the drive.

—

Checking in took an eternity. (Betty tried to help Benny _thrice_ with the computer; ultimately he gave up and took their information in a ledger).

Patrick was on him the moment they made it through the door to room 10, trying to toe off his shoes and kiss David’s neck at the same time.

“Hey,” David ran a soothing hand down his arm, which somehow morphed into feeling him up, fingers caressing a muscled shoulder, sliding down to his chest, up to the nape of his neck. “We have all night.”

“I know, I know. I just-” He huffed a laugh. “Sorry. I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

David tries not to feel disappointed by the wording: _it,_ not _you._

“Mmm. That sounds… specific.”

Patrick’s hands dove beneath his sweater, rucking it up a bit, and pulled him in by his bare waist. “Well, general _and_ specific, really.”

“Were you- oh,” David abruptly ran out of words. Patrick was kissing his hand sweetly, almost chastely, the one he’d been holding in the car.

“Was I what?” He took David’s index finger into his mouth, sucking softly, and David could breathe again.

“Were you thinking about last night?”

“Yes, but... not exactly.” Patrick tugged at David’s sweater again. He already knew better than to pull it over David’s head himself. Obediently David pulled it off, folded it, and set it on the surprisingly retro-chic dark hardwood chair.

Patrick got his attention back by seizing his belt and dragging him towards the bed like a caveman—and just like that, David was hard.

“What were you thinking about, then?” He hissed at the sensation of Patrick rubbing him through his pants, then batted him away so he could undo them. The clasp was delicate.

“I was thinking about last night. But I was also thinking about… more.”

“More how?” David slipped off his shoes and pulled his pants and socks off in one go.

“David.” Patrick gave him a look.

David folded his arms over his chest. Why the fuck did Patrick still have his clothes on? “No, I’m not- I’m being serious. You said slow, and that’s- new for me, as we’ve established, so I’m gonna need clear, unambiguous speed limit signs for this.” He waved a hand over Patrick’s body. “And anyway, if you can’t say it, then you probably aren’t ready to-”

“I want you to fuck me,” Patrick interrupted, loud enough that anyone walking by their window could have heard him. “And I’m ready for it. I’m _literally_ ready for it.”

David blinked. It took him a minute.

“When you say literally-”

Patrick kissed him, hard and sudden, only pulling away once he’d thoroughly shut David up. “David. Please.”

For a moment he was frozen, assessing, searching Patrick’s eyes for any hint of hesitation. He didn’t find it.

David pulled him into a biting kiss. Patrick didn’t resist, exactly, but he got a hand on David’s ass and kissed him back even harder, trying to take control.

Oh, _fuck_ yes.

Without breaking the kiss, David yanked Patrick’s shirt up and ran one hand over the smooth skin beneath. When Patrick didn’t cooperate, David shoved him lightly, putting just enough distance between them to roughly strip him. (There wassome benefit to cheap clothing.)

A flush was already creeping down Patrick’s chest, and his jeans did nothing to hide how much David manhandling him was turning him on. So David pushed him again, sending him sprawling backwards onto the bed.

Eyes dark, chest heaving, Patrick gazed up at him. Waiting.

“Take off those jeans. If you can.” David went back to the door for his leather overnight bag, dropping it on the nightstand.

Grinning, Patrick started working his jeans down. “Why weren’t you this sassy yesterday?”

Truthfully, it was because David had learned a long time ago that variety kept people interested. Change things up enough, and hopefully they won’t feel the need to sleep with other people.

 _Oh my god, what is wrong with you, do_ not _say any of that out loud._

“Do you need me to be less… uh, sassy?”

“I wasn’t complaining.”

“Good, because I was going to say: yesterday, you weren’t desperate for me to fuck you.”

“Kinda was.” Patrick reached up and grabbed David by the hips, pulling him onto the bed. “It was... incredible. Intense. I kept thinking that I wanted more of you.”

“I know. You, ah, said some of that out loud. Loudly out loud.”

Patrick kissed him again, and they got lost in that for awhile, the remainder of their clothes coming off between deep, greedy kisses. David pinned Patrick to the mattress, tongue pressing into his mouth in rhythm with their hips until he was wild with it, struggling against David’s hands at his wrists. Once freed he flipped their positions, his legs straddling David’s thighs, five fingers clenching in David’s hair.

“Still want me inside you?” David asked hoarsely, because Patrick looked to be about thirty seconds away from ravishing him into the mattress instead. Not that he’d mind.

Well, he’d mind a little. God, he wanted to fuck Patrick so badly.

Patrick blinked down at him, tongue swiping across his bottom lip. “Yeah,” he said finally. “I really do.”

David let his hands drift to Patrick’s ass and pull. “You know we don’t have to, though.”

“Of course.”

“And you know you might not like it.” David moved one hand in, finger barely brushing Patrick’s hole.

“I’ll like it.” He pressed back against David, almost imperceptibly.

“And you’ll tell me if you need to stop for a minute, or completely.”

“ _Yes_ , David.”

“Now look who’s getting sassy.”

“You realize I’m not actually a virgin, right?”

Patrick pushed back against his finger again, more demanding this time, so David pressed a fingertip inside. Patrick’s head dropped forward.

“Yes, obviously, but this is- it’s a big deal for some people, and plenty of men don’t like it. So. You’ll tell me?”

“I’ll tell you,” Patrick said against his shoulder.

“Alright then.” David pulled out carefully, shifted out from under him, and went for his bag, motioning for Patrick to lay on his back. “First, I need to-”

“I googled it,” Patrick blurted out.

“Uh.”

“Just… so you know. Some of the preliminary, uh, stuff, I already took care of.”

“Um.”

“I’m trying to say that I’m very clean down there.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“I thought you should be aware!” Patrick rolled his eyes and blushed while David laughed at him, and god, David’s never had sex like this, sex that was hot and ridiculous, fun and sincere.

“Well. Thank you for informing me. Now may I please finger you open for my cock?” He tossed the lube and condom onto the bed.

Patrick spread his legs slowly, with intent. This would be easier with Patrick on his hands and knees, maybe, but it felt like too large a sacrifice, not being able to see his face for this.

Bending low, David licked the crease of his thigh, catching the faint scent of the Apothecary’s sandalwood and vanilla conditioner. He stayed there for awhile, mouthing at Patrick’s cock in an aimless kind of way and circling with his finger without pressing in.

When he had Patrick’s pliant beneath him, David pulled him half into his lap and reached for the lube. Fucking this way felt right—intimate and romantic—but if David was being honest with himself, it was also deeply voyeuristic on his part. He kept his eyes glued to Patrick’s face as he slipped a slick finger all the way inside him.

“Huh. You’re, um, you’re a lot more... relaxed, than you were yesterday.”

“So add another,” Patrick said, like he was having trouble forming sentences already.

“Wait, did you... oh my god.” Something electric and white hot swooped through David’a gut. “You. You fingered yourself today, didn’t you.”

It wasn’t a question, but Patrick answered anyway. “In the shower. Thinking about you doing this.” He panted as David added another finger and began to move them, twisting, stretching, and pressing. “Almost came without touching my dick.”

“Jesus, Patrick.” David took a deep breath. “Fuck. I want to see that sometime.”

“You’d want to watch me?” Patrick opened one eye, peering at him.

David wondered, not for the first time, if Patrick had any idea how goddamn hot he was. “Yes, _fuck_ yes, I’d want to watch you. I’m watching you now, watching you relax for me.”

Patrick opened for him beautifully over the next few minutes, his thighs trembling and twitching, hands braced up against the headboard. A few beads of sweat formed on his chest; David ran a finger through them, then brushed his nipple, circling it lightly as he fucked into Patrick with his other hand.

“I’m ready,” Patrick insisted for the second or third time—David wasn’t sure, he was hazy from the heat of Patrick around his fingers, the feeling of his peaked nipple under his thumb.

He actually was ready this time, though, so David pulled his hand away, wiped his fingers hastily on the duvet with a silent apology to the cleaners, and reached for a condom. He was leaking just from the idea of sinking into Patrick’s hot, trembling body.

“Do it. David, I’m ready, you can- you can-”

“Shh. I want to take care of you.” Because he cared too much about Patrick to rush this, cared more about Patrick’s wellbeing than a good fuck.

He wanted, _needed_ , to be careful with Patrick.

So he pushed in slowly, watching for signs of pain as the color rose in Patrick’s cheeks and his back arched against the bed. David kept moving, slow but inexorable, until he could feel Patrick everywhere, completely surrounding him.

“David,” Patrick gasped, barely audible, his eyes wide and wet.

“I’ve got you,” David said, stroking his thumb over the small scar by Patrick’s eyebrow. “Shh, I’ve got you.”

“You can move.” Patrick’s voice shook like a leaf.

David bit his lip viciously and kept his body completely still. “Not yet.” _I can’t hurt you. I can’t hurt you because I don’t ever want you to regret this, to regret letting me be the first. I don’t want to be a bad story you tell your husband someday_. “Give yourself a minute.” 

Nodding, Patrick closed his eyes. When his breathing evened out, David started to move, slowly out and then a little harder back in.

“Oh god.” Patrick’s whole body went taut, the tendons on his neck visible. “Oh- oh _god_.”

David watched, spellbound, as Patrick struggled to adjust to the feeling of being fucked for the first time. His expression melted slowly from discomfort to confusion, then to something more heated as his body caught on to the rhythm of it.

“Look at you,” David marveled after a few minutes. “Look how well you take it, how well you’re taking me.” He bent down, curling in for a wet, open kiss.

“David! David, please, fuck, David…”

David shifted his angle and Patrick flailed, one heel kicking hard against David’s back. He was so far gone that he didn’t even apologize. “Oh god, again, like that, please, shit, please David...”

“You- you have to stop talking. I’m not going to last.”

“Okay, okay.” Patrick nodded frantically, then continued without so much as a pause, “Just keep- just keep doing- oh, fuck, David, fuck me, I’ve never felt- oh, god, you’re so good, so good, _fuck._ ” He pushed against the headboard to meet David’s thrusts, his strong arms framing his face.

Shit. “Touch yourself. Do it, I’m about to- I’m going to-”

Patrick already was, his hand clumsy between them. David felt him coming before he saw it. Everything got tighter and hotter, and then David was coming right after him, inside him, bending him further and thrusting in deeper as he did. Patrick gave a breathless moan.

They stayed like that for a long moment afterwards. Usually this was the part David hated, the sudden realization that he was sweaty, naked, and gross in close proximity to another human being.

He didn’t hate it now, though. Instead he felt peaceful, happy even, as he pet Patrick’s temple, pulled out gently, and floated through the requisite clean up procedures.

“I’ve never been like this before.” Patrick said maybe five minutes later, with his arm slung over his eyes.

David was starting to worry about that arm. It hadn’t moved since he’d wiped down their bodies with a wet, dingy hotel washcloth. (At least it was softer than the Brillo pads Stevie claimed were washcloths.)

“Been like... what? Utterly wrecked by my nigh-magical sexual prowess?”

“I’ve never begged.”

David narrowed his eyes, trying to place Patrick’s tone. There was shock, that was obvious. There was also something almost like bitterness. “Well... I, for one, like the begging. If you’re looking for feedback.”

“Oh, you like it, do you?”

“Mm hmm, five star begging. It feels extremely... complimentary.”

Finally Patrick dropped his arm. “It _is_ extremely complimentary.” He propped himself up on one elbow to look at David properly. “You’re- you know I think you’re gorgeous, right? Because I want you to know that.”

“Oh.” It was David’s turn to hide his face, turning away to pull a pair of clean underwear from his bag. “You don’t have to, uh. To say that.”

“Apparently I do, if you’re fishing for compliments from teenage thieves with combination skin,” Patrick teased, then rolled over to kiss his waist. “I want to say it. You’re gorgeous.” He kissed David’s side again, higher up this time. “You’re sexy.” He kissed his shoulder. “And I like how you dress.”

David stared at the ceiling, then closed his eyes tight, trying to think of something, anything, to say to that. He couldn’t, so he kissed Patrick instead, soft and lingering. He was so _much_ , sometimes, overwhelming in a way that made David’s chest ache.

Oblivious, Patrick squeezed his shoulder and pulled away. “I’m going to order pizza. You should take a quick nap.”

 _Will you marry me?_ David thought, a joke he’d never say aloud. God, imagine? Patrick would run screaming for the hills.

“So, Mr. Versace, will we be checking in again tomorrow night?” he asked instead, eyes already heavy.

“Nah.” Patrick yawned and pulled out his phone. “Tuesday is Ray's poker night.”

**Author's Note:**

> Stay tuned for more contributions to this series <3
> 
> I'm on tumblr at well-schitt.tumblr.com, come say hello!


End file.
